He laughed. “Oh, admit it. You love it.”
“That’s the penance part. My slow descent into madness.”
Seeing the grin curling at the edges of her lips, Nick leaned forward in his seat to kiss her. “Aw, you say the sweetest things.” And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
They continued their drive, and as the trees grew even thicker, he began to wonder about this resort she was taking him to. They turned a corner, and she veered the car onto a one-lane street that took them over a narrow bridge.
“What’s the name of this place we’re staying at?” He realized how odd it was that he needed to ask. Since they’d landed in San Francisco, Jordan had been calling the shots. Both the FBI agent and Cro-Magnon in him felt somewhat unsettled by this. He was used to taking charge of a situation—any situation.
With another glance at Jordan, he decided to go with the flow. For now. At the very least, it gave him a few more minutes to enjoy the view.
“Calistoga Ranch,” she answered him.
“It seems off the beaten path,” he said.
“It’s meant to have a rustic, one-with-nature kind of feel,” Jordan said. They drove around another bend, and then pulled into a clearing at what appeared to be the main lodge. Several cars lined the driveway ahead of them, and Nick did a quick tally: two Mercedes, one Porsche 911, a BMW 6 Series, and an Aston Martin.
Nick raised an eyebrow as Jordan parked their rental car behind the Aston Martin. “Rustic?”
“Well . . . call it ‘rich-person rustic,’ ” she conceded. She opened her door and slid out of the car, all long, slim legs and heels and her golden blond hair shining in the warm California sun. In an instant, she looked like she belonged.
“Welcome back, Ms. Rhodes,” said the valet as he took the keys from her. “Did you have a pleasant flight?”
“Very pleasant. Thank you.”
“I’ll load the bags into the cart while you check in.” With an efficient nod, the valet took off.
Nick came around the car and took Jordan’s hand. “The cart?”
“Cars aren’t allowed on the resort grounds, so they shuttle us to and from our room in a golf cart.”
“Rich-person rustic doesn’t include walking?”
“Our room is a mile away. Uphill.” She pulled him closer. “I know it’s asking a lot, sweetie, but try to enjoy yourself. You might be surprised and actually like it here.”
Nick took a look around. His first thought was that it was a good thing he hadn’t taken a vacation in a while, because he definitely was going to need the extra cash to pay for his half of the trip. If Jordan thought he was letting her foot the bill, she could think again. Where he came from, men did not mooch off their girlfriends. Even their obscenely wealthy heiress girlfriends.
Girlfriend.
His left eye began to twitch.
Jordan looked over. “You okay?”
“Just a little pollen or something.” He rubbed his eye for emphasis.
They entered a large, Western-style main lodge, where a front desk clerk greeted them. She seemed to recognize Jordan immediately, confirmed her reservation for a one-bedroom hillside lodge, and produced an actual set of keys. Apparently, rich-person rustic didn’t include key cards, either.
Within minutes, they were in a golf cart, cruising along a small paved road with a thickly forested cliff on one side of them and a lake on the other. Along the way, they passed by several bungalow-style guest lodges set a good distance apart for privacy.
From behind his sunglasses, Nick studied the valet in the front seat of the golf cart. No more than twenty-three years old, the blond, tanned guy looked like he should be sitting on the beach in a lifeguard chair. Instead, he chatted animatedly with Jordan about a winery he’d recently discovered.
After a several-minute drive, the valet parked the cart at the edge of a walkway that led up a hill. “You know the drill, Jordan. Gotta hoof it from here. I’ll grab the bags.”
“I’ll grab the bags.” Nick gave the valet a tip and a look that said that no further assistance, questions, comments, or wine chitchat was necessary. Jordan looked on with amusement, but said nothing as she led him up a path with stairs that led to a bungalow on a hill. She unlocked a gate, and they stepped onto a large covered patio complete with a fireplace, an outdoor living area, and an incredible view of the canyon below them.
She used a second key to unlock a glass door that took them inside the lodge and into a living room with a marble-surround fireplace and state-of-the-art entertainment center.
“So this is rich-person rustic.” Nick set the bags down and looked around. Through the windows, he could see that the master suite was an entirely separate space on the opposite end of the patio. He walked back outside, cut across the deck, and opened the door to the bedroom. He took in the king bed covered with plush pillows and the dark cherry dressers and nightstands. Adjacent to the bedroom was a large stone and granite bathroom complete with two vanities, an oversized tub, and a combination steam/rain shower. French doors along one wall of the bathroom led to a private outdoor shower.
“Think it’ll do?” Jordan asked from behind him.
Nick turned around, slightly embarrassed to have been caught gawking at their surroundings. He shrugged, taking on a nonchalant tone. “Sure. I’ve just never known anyone who could afford all this.” He reached down and unstrapped the gun harness from his calf. He set it on the nightstand next to the bed, along with his wallet.